Begin Again
by ObliviousPoptart
Summary: After a rather abusive relationship, Matthew is not ready to get back out into the field of dating. At all. But, leave it up to an obnoxious brother to shove you into the ring with a broken arm. But, maybe, it wouldn't be so bad this time. Maybe he could begin again. (PruCan, non-graphic mentions of past abuse)


Matthew took a deep breathe as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing his image.

This was officially his first date since _him_ , and Matthew was... He was beyond nervous. His breathing was echoing off the tiled walls at a pace quicker than normal. What if his date decided he wasn't cute enough, wasn't funny enough, wasn't talkative enough-

Okay, he's shutting up now. Those thoughts led down the road to Not Good, USA, just towards No Date, Canada.

Matthew sighed lightly, rustling the blond curls framing his soft face and violet eyes. Warm violet eyes, not cold, heartless violet like _his_ were.

Not Good was getting just that much closer.

He fidgeted slightly, flattening the nice flannel shirt he was wearing. Personally, it was his favorite shirt, but he hadn't been able to wear it for a good long while. _He_ never liked it when he wore it. _He_ said it looked too good on Matthew and attracted too much attention and _he_ hated it when someone talked to him.

God, he had only succeeded in finally, finally leaving a month ago and the man was still invading his life and _he_ wasn't even here!

Matthew groaned slightly and tapped the glass with his forehead, lilac locking with lilac in a defiant stare-down, both - or rather, just the one, however you wanted to look at it - daring the other to give up.

Not Good had been completed, and he was near the border for Fucking Crazy. Great.

"I'm going. I'm going," he told himself quietly, defiantly, assuredly. He would. He wouldn't let _him_ ruin this stupid date, even if his brother had set it up in the first place, saying something along the lines of, "You need to get out and forget that stupid Commie!"

The fact the bruises and scratches and scars - both literal and metaphoric - hadn't completely healed was glaringly important, but his brother was never one for boring emotional details.

Matthew walked out of the bathroom, clicking off the light and slipping on his boots with his phone in his pocket, earbuds already in their assigned socket for the twenty minute walk it took to get downtown from his quaint little house situated on a road of it's own creation.

The earbuds were removed from their place around Matthew's neck, placed into his ears to snuggle as close as possible to eardrums as he locked the door. The first song to play was a song by an artist his twin had gotten him hooked on that he would deny he enjoyed, for the sake of nationalism - and to annoy his brother, but what was the fun in telling anyone that - because she wasn't Canadian.

Matthew began his walk in the cool autumn evening weather, nodding to people as he passed, though they hardly noticed the quiet young man. Around halfway through the walk, a song played that held many conflicted emotions for the Canadian.

A song, cleverly named "Cheer Up!" (by yet another non-Canadian artist he refused to admit to enjoying) was a personal favorite - this day was full of previously unallowed personal favorites - that _he_ never understood or decidedly enjoyed. This, of course, meant it was banned from all music listening devices, much to Matthew's dismay, though he wasn't surprised. _He_ never understood why he listened to the song, saying he had no reason to be cheered up, for _he_ held all the happiness Matthew would ever need.

Matthew had denied he was in an abusive relationship, more for himself than anyone else.

The song spoke about how nothing mattered in life because the larger picture was just so _large_. How could you possibly be sad when you looked into the sky and stared at the never-ending expanse of the universe hanging delicately above your head? It calmed Matthew when _he_ had been particularly cruel or uncaring.

 _He_ never understood, but, then again, there was very little _he_ really understood about Matthew, period.

The walk ended with earbuds in his pocket in front of a quaint cafe owned by a rather exuberant Frenchman and his moody British husband.

Matthew walked into the little cafe, the smell of baking bread and various desserts wafting into his nose, a smile slipping onto his face.

He glanced around the cafe, expecting his date to be late, as it was his personality, but he noticed the man stand and wave him over to their table by the window. He lifted his eyebrows in mild surprise before returning the smile, walking over to his date.

"Hey, Matt!" Gilbert greeted with a grin, pulling his chair out for him and helping him sit, which should have been patronizing (as it was Gilbert), but came off rather kind and helpful.

"Thank you, Gil," he thanked quietly, smiling at him. He hadn't had someone think about him when on a date in almost a year. _He_ had always thought more about himself than his date.

Gilbert shrugged, returning to his own seat. "No problem, Mattie."

Arthur - the moody British man who co-owned the cafe - came over to take their drink and meal orders soon after he noticed Matthew sit down, making some light conversation with the couple. He gave Matt a meaningful look - he had been one of the few people he _was_ allowed to talk to while living with _him_ \- before leaving them to catch up.

"I haven't seen you in a long time, Matt. I was kinda surprised when Al gave me a call and asked about this, though not really because I'm so awesome. But seriously, man, where'd you go? You disappeared for a good 9 months."

Matthew struggled to find a good way to avoid the conversation, deciding on humor. "I was pregnant, Gil. It was a stressful 9 months," he replied before wincing as if awaiting a disapproving look or physical injury, as _he_ was prone to do after the Canadian attempted to crack a joke.

Gilbert stared owlishly at him for a moment before throwing his head back laughing, reminiscent of how he laughed as a little kid. "Oh God, I almost forgot how much I fucking love your sense of humor, Matt," he stated between chuckles.

He lifted his eyebrows in shock. No one had laughed at his jokes in a long time. During his last relationship, he never had the confidence to, so he didn't, afraid he would disappoint _him_ or get hurt.

"Don't look so shocked, Matt," he stated, pulling Matthew from his thoughts. "Seriously, though, what happened to-"

"Here are your drinks, lads," Arthur interrupted loudly, setting down their glasses. "Your food will be out in a few, alright?"

Thank God for convenient timing was all Matthew had to say about his friend's appearance as he searched for a topic to distract the albino. He seemed to venture off the topic himself, however, as he began talking about his pet bird Gilbird - not a surprising name - and how adorable the little bird was.

The topic of their animals continued for a good few minutes, interrupted only by the arrival of their food.

The conversation lulled, both taking several bites in silence before it was broken. "Say, Matt, I know your normal demeanor is shy and all, and that's awesome, but you've been a little... Off," Gilbert wondered around his fork, eyeing the blond in front of him.

Matthew smiled lightly, quickly replying a vague, "Just had a long night and stressful day at work, Gil," before venturing to a new topic on movies that had come out the past few weeks.

They spent several hours conversing and catching up on the time they missed together, Matthew slowly gaining his confidence back as he made sarcastic and humorous remarks received with loud and happy laughter.

Around eight that evening, Arthur shooed out the two, as Francis was becoming distracted from closing and cleaning the cafe by his two close friends. Arthur refused to clean the place himself, as evident why his tapping shoe and finally shoving a broom into his husband's hands when he became impatient enough. He said a quick goodbye to the two before venturing inside again. Shouting could be heard when he reached the Frenchman, but neither were concerned, since it was how they had acted before and while dating.

As they left, they began to walk towards Matthew's home, Gilbert in the process of explaining an extravagant and unbelievable story about penguins and the mafia, or so Matthew thought, since he couldn't keep up with the story quite well.

His thoughts wandered to the past year, wondering just how to broach the topic with Gilbert, as he had a right to know. Maybe it wasn't the right time, though. Or, what if it ran him off, because he was damaged property? Not the Gil would ever think that, but who would want someone who couldn't even say in all honesty that he hadn't deserved _his_ treatment? Or-

A hand slipped into his, pulling him from his thoughts. "Hey, you listening to the awesome me or what?"

Matthew blushed, attempting to hide his face. "S-Sorry, Gil."

Gilbert shrugged, tugging his closer slightly, head turned to hide his own light blush. "Hey, how about the awesome me walks you home?"

Matthew lifted his eyebrows at that, turning to his date. "R-Really? It's so far out of your way, though-"

"No biggie, Birdie! I can protect you from the unawesome people of the night!"

Matthew snorted lightly, rolling his eyes. "You sound like Alfred." Ignoring the insulted "Hey!" he continued, "You do know I play hockey on the weekends and can take care of myself, right?"

"Shh, you're ruining the moment," Gilbert replied quickly, grinning as he gained a laugh from Matthew.

The topic shifted to the Christmas season soon approaching, Gilbert telling stories of what he and his little brother - and his little brother's "unofficial" boyfriend - did every Christmas, grinning as his free hand flew around in the air as he spoke.

Matthew smiled freely, squeezing the hand in his tightly as all thoughts of _hi-_ of Ivan flying from his mind as he enjoyed the company next to him.

As the normal Wednesday ended, the leaves crunching under their feet as laughter echoed in the empty streets, Matthew wondered if he was watching himself begin again.


End file.
